


Touch-A Touch Me! (Creature of the Night!)

by MonsterParade



Category: Fran Bow (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Itward's genitals are undetermined, Monster sex, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterParade/pseuds/MonsterParade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night meeting between two old friends that escalates in the sweetest of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One (fluff only) (PDA)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting fanfiction to the archive, so if you like it and/or want more, please inform me! My tumblr URL is whittorn, and I am always open to messages!

You were feeling done in. Couldn’t win. Things had been going so wrong for you lately, a thousand loose ends you couldn’t tie up, and it had you completely worn down. This Wednesday night, you’d confined yourself to your bed, almost content just to wallow in your own misery and soft blankets, when you’d received a most unexpected guest.

The window flew open.

“Good evening, my dear!” a screechy voice exclaimed. You very nearly jumped out of your skin.

“I-Itward!” you yelped, and covered your mouth, remembering your family just downstairs. “Don’t scare me like that, please!” you added in a whisper. You were given a skeletal smile in return.

You’d known Itward for a very long time. Ever since you were a child, you’d been seeing strange things, slinking shadows and glowing, ethereal beings and- and Itward. The Creature of the Night. Self-proclaimed grey to evil and good’s respective black and white. He was a good old friend.

He tipped his hat to you, and gently closed the window behind him.

“You look blue, my friend.” he informed you, and you smiled dryly at him, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the heat flooding your cheeks. This always happened. What could you say for yourself, really? He just happened to be just your type. Not that he knew it! And if you had your way, which you very much intended to, he never would.

“Just not...feeling myself lately.” you admitted. “Just tired. ...How about you? It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other! Where have you been?”

Itward seemed to frown.

Crossing the room in two short strides of his incredibly long legs, he reached the bed where you lay and sat down on the edge next to you, laying a cold hand on your shoulder.

“I’m afraid things haven’t been quite stable lately, my dear. Big things are happening, and I must stay on top of them! The realities are a mess I just can’t seem to clean up.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. With a sigh, you turned your head to lean your cheek against Itward’s hand, hoping he wouldn’t mind the tiny show of affection. He was quite the hugger, anyway, so he could hardly hold it against you. Yellow eyes met yours with a curious gaze.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he offered, his loose jaw chattering eerily between words. You found yourself staring intently at those teeth of his. Razor-sharp, bone-white, and several inches long, they never failed to make you shiver, although not necessarily in an unpleasant way. Not at all.

“...Reader?”

You shook yourself out of it with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, Itward! Not really. I think this is something I’d just rather forget...” you told him. “Will you, uhm, stay here with me anyway?”

Inexplicably as always, Itward’s eyes somehow narrowed, and he smiled again, patting the top of your head as he spoke.

“Of course, my sweet Reader. I am your best, faithful friend! What would I be if I left you alone in your time of need?”

Need indeed.

Even the thought had you nearly giggling aloud, one of your hands coming up involuntarily to your face to cover your smile. Just imagine, scratching that itch with Itward! What a hilarious thought! ...Right? You pretended to cough. However much you might mentally deny it, you couldn’t fully pretend you weren’t interested in the monster next to you. How one would even begin to try something like that with a skeleton, you were clueless, but the thought did hold its allure.

You rolled over to look at Itward full-on, dislodging the hand atop your head and taking it into your own, instead.

“...So whaddaya wanna do?” you asked. Itward locked his jaw and furrowed his brow, his own unique expression of thought.

“We could always read a story! Would you like to hear a new one?” he suggested, his free hand going down to his jacket as though he were already hiding a book in there. You laughed.

“You know I haven’t listened to stories since I was a kid, dude.” you chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. The joints creaked. What would you like to do? Just spending time with Itward was usually enough...

You could always jump his bones.

Inexplicably, a cackle rose up in your throat, and you fought to keep it down, Itward quirking a nonexistent eyebrow at the strange face you were making.

“What is so funny, my darling?” he asked, his own voice holding a tone of amusement to it. You could have kissed him for it.

So you did.

It was the tiniest peck, hardly noticeable, your lips just brushing his cheekbone, but you were instantly both mortified and absolutely thrilled. Itward’s whole body rattled, and froze.

“My- my, my dear?” he stammered. Were you imagining things, or was there suddenly a strange haze around him?

You kissed him again. You must have lost your mind.

Your usual inhibition was suddenly and completely missing, and it felt as though the whole world had opened itself up for you as you leaned forward to press a hard kiss to the front of his teeth, ignoring the awkwardness of the action and fixating instead on the tiny, breathy wheeze that followed.

“M-m-m-my Reader,” Itward began weakly, keeping his teeth tightly clenched to avoid hurting you with their deadly points. “You are- that is to say-”

He cut off. That wasn’t haze around him. It was steam. A billowing cloud of it, rising from his top hat like a chimney, the top having popped open as though on hinges. You were bizarrely delighted.

“You’re steaming!” you exclaimed, leaning backwards a little to talk. “Is that like, are you blushing?”

The steam picked up speed. Teeth chattering, Itward’s hands flew up to his hat, scrabbling to hold the top down, before he changed his mind and touched his fingertips to his teeth, as though feeling for where you’d kissed.

“My dearest Reader! What was that?”

“A kiss!”

“I know it was a kiss! I mean- but you kissed me!” he chattered, wringing his hands together now, and rocking forward slightly. You almost felt sorry for him.

“Was it...that bad?” you asked, wilting slightly as you spoke. You’d only kissed a few times before in your life, but to provoke such a reaction...your misery almost came rushing back to you. Almost.

Itward’s hands flew forward to grab yours.

“Not at all!” he exclaimed, and his top hat let out a whistle like a tea kettle, his teeth inches from your face as he leaned forward. “Oh, my dear, my darling, I didn’t mean to upset you! I have...never been kissed before, you see! It is a very human thing.”

His pupils narrowed.

“I would like to try it again.”

It took you a few moments to process before you nearly knocked him over.


	2. Chapter Two (Mentions of NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get weird.

Itward's top hat tumbled to the floor.

With a final puff of steam, it landed on its side underneath the bed, and the top sealed itself up again, completely unnoticed by you as you made an honest effort to push your skeletal friend over. Itward made a strange sound and allowed you.

"Don't bite me, okay?" you asked, moving to lay across Itward's midsection as you leaned in again. Itward did not reply, and only watched you with his eerie golden eyes as you kissed him again and again, overflowing with affection. It wasn't like he didn't deserve this, in your eyes. He'd always been there for you, for as long as you could remember, maybe even before you were aware there was a 'you'. Heartbreaks, suicidal nights, big days, and birthdays. You couldn't recall a single time he'd ever let you down. "...Why are we friends, Itward?" you asked, stopping your attack to instead speak quietly. Itward finally blinked.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" he replied, and his brow furrowed, teeth bared in a worried grimace. Horrifying, really. You adored him.

"I mean, why do you hang out with me? I'm just a human. There's billions of us. I've never met anyone like you."

"Reader." Itward said. He sat up very suddenly, and grabbed you around the middle before you had a chance to tumble away, lifting you up and setting you beside him with as much ease as if you were a ragdoll. He tilted his head down to look you in the eyes. "You are unique, my friend, as every living thing is. By all means, the likelihood of you existing was minuscule at best, and yet, your universe collided in just the right ways to make...you!" he exclaimed. "And here you sit! Do you not find that wonderful?"

You tried to fight the smile on your face.

"You're wonderful." 

"My blushes."

Itward smiled at you, earnest and bizarre and fantastic as ever, and your own smile turned into a grin, your cheeks bright red from adrenaline.

"I'm sorry I knocked your hat-" you began, only to cut off as Itward leaned in to gingerly bump his teeth against your mouth. He then leaned back, cleared his throat, and leaned over the edge of the bed, returning with the aforementioned hat in his hand. His eyes were very deliberately glued to the bedspread.

The butterflies in your stomach were in a frenzy.

"No need to apologize, my darling! The floor is clean, no harm done," he assured you. You awkwardly ran a hand through your hair. 

What now? He'd kissed you, or at least made an effort to, and surely that had to mean something? Maybe...something like...him liking you back? You tugged a fistful of hair nervously as you thought. Just how much did he understand about humans? Was he aware of what kissing represented? Was he aware of what it meant to you? And was he aware of just how his polite little kiss had you burning up under your clothes?

You noticed Itward staring at you again.

"What?"

He wrung his hands together with a dry crackling sound. 

"You look troubled. I imagine that my 'kiss' was not sufficient. Oh, no my dear, don't make that face! I was well-aware it would be difficult, but, perhaps the gesture was acceptable?" he asked. For the first time you could remember, he almost sounded shy. You bit your lip. 

"Itward!" you scolded gently. "I love everything you do. Don't start getting sheepish on me!" 

Itward's grin seemed to leer at you. 

"Love?" 

"U-um. Uhm!" 

"Hah hah, I merely jest, my dear." 

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes. That was way too close for comfort. You definitely needed to be more careful with your word choice. 

"Reader?" Itward began. You looked up at him curiously. 

"What's wrong?" 

Itward rattled nervously, and leaned in once again, his jaws snapping just an inch or two from your face as he spoke. 

"May I kiss you again?" 

Your poor face was already red as an apple, what exactly was this damn skeleton trying to accomplish, flustering you like this? Such a gentleman... 

"Please," you replied quietly, and Itward, never failing to surprise you, moved in to bump his teeth not against your lips, but against your neck, almost nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder. You gasped. 

"I have to admit, my dearest, darling Reader, I am most enamored with you," he muttered against your neck, and the tips of his teeth scraped your skin as his jaw moved, very careful not to draw blood. You couldn't have explained to him how much you wanted him to. You could only sit there dumbly, mouth half-open, and try not to squirm as he gently bit down, as though testing his boundaries. 

"Yeah?" you breathed. 

Itward did not reply. 

It was then that you became aware of his hand on your knee, very gently rubbing circles, almost not touching. His yellow eyes followed your gaze, and his hand stilled. 

"I'm sorry! How rude of me," he apologized, and only managed to move his hand away an inch or two before you grabbed it. 

"No! It's...nice." 

Curious eyes wide, Itward lightly placed his hand back on your knee, returning to drawing circles as he spoke again. 

"Reader, dear? I will not pretend I am well-versed in human romance, although I did attempt to study it for a time, but I believe that this is the part where things...escalate?" he asked slowly. His hat was steaming again. 

You were dumbfounded. 

"Romance? What do you, what do you mean, escalate? Do you- ...oh my god, Itward, do you mean sex?" you squealed. You were absolutely unsure of how to react to this. Itward, apparently, was having the same problem, and kept his mouth shut and his eyes cast elsewhere, warm steam blowing through the room and making you sweat. You covered your mouth. 

Itward was suggesting sex. Literally, a once in a lifetime chance. Maybe even more unlikely. Your stomach felt like jelly. 

"H-how does one...escalate...with a skeleton?" you finally asked, breaking the tense silence. Itward slowly turned his head to look back at you. 

He waggled his fingers. 

Ah. 

You were painfully hot now, and you shifted slightly where you sat. This would be...this could...happen. There really was a god listening.

"Do you even know what to do?" you asked. Your voice was meek, hesitant, while Itward on the other hand seemed to perk up when he answered. 

"I believe I do! As I said before, I have studied the matter, and I believe I know the best way to arouse a human of your nature!"

"Oh my god." 

He was so...enthusiastic. God, if this didn't kill you, nothing could. 

"Well...then..." you began, wringing your hands together until they were red and sore. "Why don't you sho-show me?"


	3. Chapter Three (Smut. Itward's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets weird.

How had this happened? Was this really happening at all? You could hardly believe it. 

After you'd spoken, Itward's eyes had gotten such a gleam to them, it had made your skin prickle. And now, those yellow eyes were wider than ever, their slit pupils dilated, staring at you with a predator's gaze at odds with your friend's gentle personality. He almost scared you. 

Almost. 

"Do get comfortable, my dear, there we are," Itward encouraged, and gently guided you onto your back, giving you time to settle down and still your racing heart as he fiddled with his hat, with the buttons on his coat, obviously buying as much time as he could. For you or for him, you weren't sure. 

"I hope you'll forgive me if I don't undress." he added. "There isn't really much to look at, you understand." 

Do I- uhm, should I?" you asked. 

"If you'd please." 

So you did. Your hands were clumsy and unsure, movements hesitant, and decidedly unsexy, at least in your mind. You tugged your shirt up over your head with only a little wiggling, but your nerve failed almost immediately after. You had to fight the urge to cover back up again. 

"Don't be shy, darling!" Itward murmured, and finally blinked, casually turning his head away from you to give you a little privacy. You could see him trying to watch from the corner of his eye, nevertheless. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________ (Itward POV) 

It couldn't really be helped. Here was that human, that delightful, red-faced human, all in a tizzy because of some kisses, and halfway undressed. Who could really manage not to look? Your hands found the brim of your hat, and worried it between your fingertips, bone scraping against bone as you struggled to be polite and keep your eyes on the opposite wall. Be a gentleman, Itward, don't make a fool of yourself... 

"Itward?" your Reader prompted eventually, and you froze, clutching your hat against your ribcage. Were they ready? 

"Um, you can look now. Just, don't laugh, okay?" 

"I would never laugh at you, my dearest friend," you assured them immediately. You hesitated a minute more before gathering the nerve to turn your head, and look. You were hit in the face with a cloud of your own hat's steam at the sight. 

Reader was small, much smaller than you at your monstrous eight feet, but such a lovely shade of pink, despite the old, faded scars marking the rosy skin on their stomach and arms. Had you a heart, it would have ached for them. 

"Oh, I do adore you." you sighed, and dropped your hat carelessly on the floor, far too distracted to be bothered with your clothing right now. You watched Reader's pink turn to delicate red at your words. Great gods, did you adore them. 

Reader covered their face, and crossed their legs. 

"Itward! Please don't stare! Just- come and kiss me, or, or something." they demanded. You could see their nervous grin behind their fingers. You smiled back, more than happy to oblige. 

With a creaking of your bones that was too noisy in the quiet of the room, you turned around and moved forward, the dry clacking sounding like pebbles on stone as you reached for them. You gently took their hands, and pulled them away from their face. 

"Please, darling, try to relax." you soothed, as best you could. Why they were even doing this was beyond you. To them, you must have looked like a looming monster, all stark white and jutting teeth. You were taller than them, stronger than them, and still they entrusted all of themselves to you, with nary a shiver or a shake. You could have cried, were you not dry bone. How many centuries, how very many many years, had it been since someone had loved you? 

You leaned in, filled with emotion, and kissed them again, bumping your teeth against their cheek in a sad imitation of the action. They sighed happily. 

"My sweet, my delight," you chattered, and bit down gently on their neck, on their collarbone and shoulders. "My darling." 

"Itward!" they squealed, and laughed as one of your hands found its way down, giving them a light jab in the ribs. So they were ticklish? Fancy that. You grinned. 

"I must admit, my name sounds lovely on your lips, dear." you teased. Reader socked you gently in the shoulder in reply. Good to see they were getting back to themselves. 

"May I...touch you, darling?" 

Reader paused, and bit their lip, their smile turning shy almost by some sweet magic. 

"Duh." 

"Astute reply." you chuckled. 

You did not touch them. Not yet. How could you? They were so soft, and alive. They trusted you not to hurt them. And what if you did? You could never forgive yourself. 

Reader broke you from your thoughts before they had a chance to get out of control. 

"...Itward? I'm dying here, yanno?" 

Ah. Right. 

"Ah! Yes! Hm." you muttered, and ground your teeth together, laying a hand on their stomach and gently, very gently, edging downward. Now was not the time to be getting performance anxiety! You took a deep breath you did not need. 

Your hand moved lower. Reader squirmed. 

Lower. 

Finally, your fingers dipped between their thighs, making them shiver, and you gingerly slid a finger along their outer lips, marveling at the moisture gathered there. 

"This isn't uncomfortable, is it?" you asked. You glanced back up at Reader's face, and grit your teeth. Their eyes were so bright, staring into yours, slightly lidded, cheeks rosy. A picture of perfection. They shook their head. 

"Please," they urged, and who were you to deny them? 

You slid the tip of one finger over the tiny bump at the top of their mound, and watched them bite their lip, hold the covers. 

You felt a familiar stirring in the center of your chest. Oh, this was not good. Much too early. 

"Just, just relax now," you told them, and moved your free hand to your chest, pressing down against the the thing trying to crawl through your ribcage. A tendril tried to sneak out between the buttons of your coat. You squashed it down. 

Taking great care to avoid letting your dear Reader see what a mess they were making of you, you re-positioned your hand, and gently pressed your middle finger against their entrance, silently asking permission. Eyes closed tightly, they nodded their head. 

"Oh!" they gasped softly, and parted their legs as you pressed your finger inside of them, painstakingly slowly to avoid any hints of pain. Gods, so soft, and rosy pink...the thing in your chest was fighting valiantly, and managed to get itself anchored now around the middle of your spine. You clicked your teeth together. This wasn't about you, this was about Reader. And you'd be damned if you so much as scared them. 

"Itward, move, please," Reader insisted, and half-opened their eyes. A tendril of shadow poked out of your coat pocket to wave hello. 

Embarrassment rattling your bones, you quickly crooked your finger inside of them, and watched their eyes scrunch closed again before they had a chance to see. Crisis averted. 

"How are you feeling, dear one?" you asked. Reader sighed softly. 

"Good...burning. I think you need to move faster, please," they asked, and you leaned your head down to nuzzle their forehead, smoothly beginning to pump your finger in and out of them. You'd always wondered how humans managed this part- wouldn't it be terrifying to have fingernails scratch you there? Thankfully, your digits were nothing but smooth. Reader gave the tiniest of moans. 

A good sign. You wished there were a way to memorize that sound forever, to let it echo in your skull until the end of days. 

"Kiss me." they demanded, and you could never have helped but comply, delicately biting their lower lip as you slipped a second finger inside of them. To your delight, it slid in easily. Reader gasped and curled their toes. 

"I-Itward," they breathed, and you couldn't help but groan, so softly you hoped they wouldn't hear. The tangled mess in your chest was slinking lower by the minute, the damned thing, and at this rate it was going to stain your coat if you didn't do something. Reader's eyes were still closed. There was a chance...

Taking that chance, you slid the hand on your chest into your coat, and squeezed the writhing knot of tendrils, your eyes half-closing in relief. You'd felt like you were about to come apart. Humans had it so easy. 

"Itward, oh, please move," your Reader pleaded, starting to open their eyes again, and you were quick to do exactly as they asked, focusing on working them open and simply letting the tangle in your other hand twist between your still fingers. Reader's voice was like music, like a glorious song as they slowly, sweetly came undone. Not to brag, but you were quite good with your fingers, after so many years of sewing and stitching and *screwing*- bolts, that is! You were a bit of a mechanic. And, you were getting off-track. 

"My darling, my dear heart." you crooned, and stretched them open gently, watching their fluids slick your fingers and speckle the bedsheets. Gods, they were dripping for you. How *lewd*. Their eyes were kept shut tightly, and every few crooks of your fingers their hips would buck up off the bed, their mouth half-open and skin flushed a bright, feverish pink. 

You struggled to maintain a gentlemanly demeanor. Of course, there was nothing particularly gentlemanly about fingering someone, but it would be even less so to let the mass in your chest have at them, to...stretch them wide, to fuck them sweetly, mercilessly, and hear them moan-- 

"Itward! O-oh! I'm coming!" 

What? Already?

Your mouth opened in a delighted grin. Poor Reader was losing themselves under your touch, and as you snapped back to reality, they slipped further and further into bliss, their breath coming out in tiny "ah, ah, ah"s. You ground your fingers harder into them, circled a thumb around their clit, and watched them come undone, their legs shaking as they hit their peak. They clutched the covers, moaning, and pressed up against your fingers as you fucked them through it, both of you wanting it to last as long as possible. You worked them over until they were gasping, and the over-stimulation would have become painful if you kept going. You leaned in to kiss their neck. 

"How do you feel, my sweet?" you asked, gingerly removing your fingers from them and rubbing the moisture between your thumb and forefinger. Thoroughly soaked. 

Reader moaned in bliss and rolled over onto their side, finally opening their eyes. 

"...Where did you learn to *do* that, Itward?" they replied, and a goofy grin lit up their face, the grin of one well-loved and well-fucked. You snickered. 

The knot in your chest- which was now no longer in your chest, but in your trousers, anchored firmly around your waist- coiled eagerly. You froze. Ah. Blast. 

"This is, t-that is to say," you began, but your words fell apart in your mouth, the hand in your trousers frozen in horror with the rest of you as Reader curiously looked you over, their face flushing anew. All that blushing couldn't be healthy for them. 

"Itward? ...What is that?" they asked. They raised a hand to point at the cluster of tendrils peeking out of your opened zipper, and you groaned with mortification as the coils of shadow stretched out towards their hand, almost touching it, as though sensing they were there. You jerked backwards. 

"... ... ...Look at what a mess you've made of me, darling." you said weakly. Shuffling, gaze cast to the blankets in embarrassment, you moved to stuff the shadows back into your clothes. A soft hand met yours and stopped you cold. 

"Is that a monster boner?" Reader asked bluntly. You fought with the overwhelming urge to laugh. 

"W-why, yes, my dear, I suppose that it is." 

Their hand stretched out again. 

"Can I- touch it? You know, touch you?" 

You grit your teeth. They couldn't possibly know what they were doing to you, so earnest, such a dream...

"Please," you replied, and watched your Reader smile, pushing *you* backwards onto the soft bed. Their curious fingers slipped downwards, and pinched the tip of a tendril lightly, catching the oily goo that leaked from it. How humiliating. You tilted your head back and locked your jaw. 

Evidently emboldened when the anemone-like mass did not lash out at them or burn them, Reader took the bull by the metaphorical horns and plunged their whole hand into the mess, as one would attempt to grasp a bowl of spaghetti. Not very arousing to imagine, but it was doing wonders for you. You gave a drawn-out groan. 

"It's so sticky!" Reader exclaimed, sounding delighted by the fact. "Is it alive? Or are you making it do this?" 

"It ah, does that- on its own, dear one." 

And what it was doing on its own was rather embarrassing. The mass was roiling against their hand, each tendril trying to wrap around their fingers and slide between them, coating them in black ooze. Personally, you were horrified, but Reader seemed quite tickled by it, stroking and petting the goopy coils as though it were a bizarre cat. You closed your eyes. 

"Darling, yes, you know just what to do," you moaned. It had been centuries since someone had touched you like this. There was no fear, no disgust, only a playful curiosity. You wanted to kiss Reader again. 

"Christ, Itward." you heard them say. You cracked open your eyes. 

Reader was pleasantly red in the face, and wrist-deep in your horrifying arousal, staring at you. 

"What?" 

Reader laughed lightly, flustered. 

"You sound...so good, Itward. Does it feel okay?" they asked. You tried not to buck your hips. 

"Delightful, my dearest, delightful." you assured them. "Please..."

You watched their face light up in satisfaction as they returned to squeezing and stroking you, each and every touch bringing you closer to your messy end. 

You laid still as you could, and fought valiantly not to writhe. At this rate, you wouldn't last long. Not at all. 

"My dear, I want," you began, and cut off with a choked sound, a particularly good twist of their hand leaving you quivering. 

"I know." Reader replied, and ah, there was that familiar glint in their eye. Whatever they were about to do, they were never going to let you forget. 

You watched them shyly part their legs once more. Oh, gods. 

"You aren't- disgusted?" you asked. Reader bent down to kiss your hipbone. You would have blushed, if you could. 

"Not at all!" they assured you with a smile, and without another word, they clambered on top of you, trying to position themselves. They seemed surprised when the mass of shadows did the work for them. 

The both of you gasped together. 

In keeping with their previous attitude, the tendrils stretched upward of their own accord, each one attempting to be the first to worm its way into your dear Reader. Each at only the width of a finger, one by one by two by three, they surged upwards and left Reader crying out in surprise, as they were stuffed full of the twisting, gelatinous things. Your head lolled backwards and your teeth snapped on air as the tendrils began to pulse. Oh, it wouldn't be long now. 

You were in bliss. While it had been delightful to feel Reader's silken tightness on your fingers, it was something else entirely to feel it squeezing around you, the remaining tendrils coating their bare thighs in greyish ooze. 

"I adore you, oh I adore you, my darling," you groaned, and Reader whimpered, trying to grind their hips down to meet yours. 

"Fuck me, please," they breathed. Gentlemanly or not, you were not going to turn down that offer. You snapped your hips up to meet theirs and watched them gasp, your hands alighting on their hips to push them down against you. Reader was starting to come undone again. 

"Aah! Itward! Itward-!" 

The most beautiful sounds you'd ever heard. 

"I'm close, dear heart." you warned them weakly, wracked with pleasure, and Reader nodded, seemingly unable to speak as you quite suddenly lost yourself. Your pleasure had reached a fever pitch, the tendrils inside of Reader writhing, and with a muffled snarl (how animalistic, how undignified), you hit your peak, filling poor Reader up with what seemed like a bucket of hot, gel-like goo. It dripped down the insides of their thighs and onto the sheets, the covers, and you, as you helplessly shuddered your way through it, seeing only white. 

When you finally came to, it was to Reader whispering your name. 

"--ward. Itward? Are you okay?" 

Groaning, you slowly opened your eyes. You felt...delightful. Deliciously floaty. 

"My dear?" you asked in reply. You glanced down. Oh. What a *mess*. 

Ooze caked the bedspread and Reader's skin, their tummy bulging slightly from the amount of it. However, their face showed nothing but satisfaction, and they sighed, flopping down across you and kissing your cheekbone with an exaggerated 'mwah'. 

"Hah hah! You look mortified!" they teased, wrapping their arms around you. Sleepy eyes met yours. "Don't worry, I never really liked these sheets anyway."


End file.
